


Theory of Relativity

by SBG



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Angst, First Time, Heartbreak, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy DeSoto had known he was different from the time he'd hit puberty. Until Johnny Gage walked into his life, he'd been able to conform to societal norms and deny a part of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theory of Relativity

In the seventh grade, Roy DeSoto had had a thing for his math teacher. That was when he had known for sure there was something wrong with him. He leaned against the sink and closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he was thinking of this all of a sudden, all of these years later, but the memories flooded his brain.

 _Roy tried to tell himself lots of kids had crushes on their teachers. His friend Bill was madly in love with Miss Jones the music teacher and had even written an idiot song to try to impress her. His friend Sue knew for sure Mr. Meschke in Shop would marry her someday; he’d overheard her talking with Joanne about the lemon cake she was going to have at the reception and other girl stuff. So, he supposed it was kind of normal to have a thing for a teacher._

 _The problem was, Roy’s math teacher was charming and cute and smart and funny and was unquestionably a man._

 _Roy knew it was wrong, but at the same time had no control over his body’s reaction. The second he was in Mr. Thompson’s room, his palms began to sweat. His heart raced. Four days out of five, he either started sixth period with a hard-on, developed one in the middle of class when Mr. Thompson reached across the blackboard or ended it with one. Usually, like today, it was all three and it was the most miserable hour of the day._

 _He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t tell anyone about it. Roy just knew it was weird to have the same kind of reaction for a man as he did whenever he and Joanne Sullivan went to the movies and made out in the back row, or when he glimpsed the curve of her breasts under her sweater. No amount of willing away the reactions or the butterflies in his gut when it came to Mr. Thompson worked. He could only conclude that he was a freak, and that he could never let anyone find out._

 _So, he played football and basketball and did normal guy things. If he could survive the year, he’d be fine. He’d only see Mr. Thompson sometimes after this grade was over. His odd … thing hadn’t happened with any other guy. Maybe it was just a fluke; it had to be. Everything about his body was changing fast and he figured that was as good a reason as any for how wrong this all was. It was like his voice cracking at strange times, eventually it would settle into his new normal. His sex drive was just on the fritz. It would settle._

 _He could handle it until then. He had to. For right now, all he needed was to get through the last few minutes of class. The bell could not ring fast enough. Roy shifted in his seat as Mr. Thompson stretched to write the homework equations on the board. He should be looking at Joanne’s butt. Out of self-preservation, he glanced at his sweetheart. That way if anyone noticed his woody, they’d think it was for her. For every other hour in the day, it was._

 _He was a wreck. He couldn’t look at the board for the assignment, so he’d have to get it from someone later. Roy fixated on Joanne for a while, until she turned toward him and frowned a little. Then he stared at the clock instead, and the bell next to it. He swore the clock starting ticking in slow motion and two minutes was more like two hours, but finally, the bell rang and he could run to the bathroom between classes. He had this routine down pat. Books in front of his crotch, first one out the door, and he had plenty of time to take care of his issue before he had to make it to practice. He was lucky, at least, that math was his last class of the day._

 _Finally, it was over. Roy was at the door before the bell had stopped ringing, but it was at the door he was stopped by a voice calling his name._

 _“Roy?” Mr. Thompson said, “I’d like to see you for a moment, if you have time.”_

 _Oh, no. Roy’s impulse was to run for it, but he could barely walk normal let alone jog. Joey Elizniak sneered and bumped into his shoulder as he turned, muttered something about being in trouble now. Something about Joey always made Roy want to punch him in the face. Instead, he sneered back. It was actually a good thing; the hard-on finally started fading on its own._

 _“Yes, sir?” Roy asked._

 _He cringed at how nervous he sounded. His mouth was so dry and Mr. Thompson stared at him intently while the remainder of his class trailed from the room until they were alone._

 _“I noticed you didn’t take down the assignment,” Mr. Thompson said. He sat on the edge of his desk, his gaze not leaving Roy’s face._

 _“No, sir, but I’ll get it from someone else. I swear.”_

 _“It’s okay. You can have this copy.”_

 _Mr. Thompson held out a piece of paper. Roy looked at it, and the hand holding it. Mr. Thompson had nice hands. It was a weird, wrong thing to notice, but it was true. Long fingers, clean nails, wide but not burly or anything. Roy shifted to hide his reemerging erection and snatched the paper. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be this way. He pivoted and headed for the door, this time stopped by a hand on his shoulder._

 _Mr. Thompson’s hand was warm, his grip firm._

 _“I know you’ve been distracted, Roy, and I know by what,” Mr. Thompson said softly. “I want you to know it’s okay.”_

 _Roy’s back and neck muscles contracted and his heart started beating harder. The hand was making him have butterflies in his gut, but the words were also filling him with dread. Mr. Thompson knew. He knew, which meant that anyone else could figure it out. He was about four seconds away from panic._

 _“I don’t know what you mean,” Roy said as he pulled free. His voice cracked. He dared a glance at Mr. Thompson, who had a soft expression and warmth in his eyes._

 _“Yes, you do.” Mr. Thompson sighed. “I understand, Roy. I know what it’s like to feel different. It’s okay. I want you to know that, even if you’re not ready to hear this yet. No matter what anyone tells you, ever in your life, it is okay to be who you are. There is nothing wrong with you.”_

 _And suddenly, Roy was very angry. He didn’t like any of the feelings he was experiencing. They were confusing and stupid and Mr. Thompson knew and that was bad. He lurched for the door. He had to get away._

 _“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I like girls. I like Joanne Sullivan, and I’m going to marry her someday,” Roy said._

 _“I know you do,” Mr. Thompson said. “And I’m sure you will.”_

Roy opened his eyes and stared at his reflection. Face half covered in shave foam, eyes hollow and peculiar, he looked like a lunatic. He felt like a lunatic. Of course, he had gone and married Joanne just like his thirteen-year-old self had insisted he would. And of course, he did like women. He loved Joanne. He always had, but Mr. Thompson hadn’t been the only man to make him feel a stirring of something both physical and emotional over the past fourteen years. Every time it happened, he was able to compartmentalize those feelings and walk away. He loved his wife and he loved his kids. It wasn’t easy sometimes, but he did it and no one ever figured out what an aberration he was.

Then Johnny Gage walked through his door at Department Headquarters, with his somber face and skepticism about the paramedic program and the nicest hands Roy had ever seen. He remembered very clearly being distracted by long fingers, hands that didn’t look strong but turned out to be some of the strongest he’d ever known. He remembered pretending to himself that it was Johnny’s wide-banded watch that had caught his attention, a style he admired but couldn’t wear himself without looking ridiculous. On Johnny, it was completely natural, attractive.

The smart thing to do would have been to discourage Johnny from signing up and go on with his life, remove the temptation. But Roy’s IQ must have taken a plunge straight into his nether regions, because instead he did the complete opposite until Johnny wrote his name on that piece of paper. He hadn’t stopped there; Roy made sure to get as much time as possible with the guy during the six weeks of training. By the end of it, he knew he was in a world of trouble. Yet, despite his inner monologue screaming at him for being a fool, Roy had stepped in even deeper, made sure Johnny would be his partner. Signed _himself_ up for a tour of unrequited misery. He was nothing more than a masochist. A freak who liked to torture himself with things he not only knew he couldn’t have, but shouldn’t want.

For the past two years, Roy had become adept at hiding his reactions to his partner. In all honesty, it usually wasn’t difficult. When they were busy on a medical run or at a fire, the job came first, always. The down times were tougher, but even those weren’t too bad. He felt genuine affection and had a deep camaraderie with Johnny that carried him through. It was enough, that friendship. Most days.

Nights were more challenging. They were growing more and more so lately. He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t want to think too much about it, because thinking about it would only make it worse and make it real. As long as he didn’t make it real, he was normal. Roy supposed some part of him had hoped he’d grow less attracted to Johnny as time went by, the way a person could overcome an allergy to a pet if he spent enough time around them.

He frowned at his reflection again. He’d just equated Johnny with an animal. Johnny wasn’t a cat. A monkey, maybe. A wild, energetic monkey. Roy smiled. Then his brain went to sex again, wondered how all of Johnny’s verve would be if they… Jesus, he had to stop this. Two years running, and this was the most hot and bothered he’d ever been. He had to get himself in control again.

Roy caught a flash of skin out of the corner of his eye and realized he’d stood there half shaved for the duration of Johnny’s shower. From where he stood, he saw every inch of his partner in reverse. Johnny was hardly a flawless specimen. On the skinny side, knobby knees, bad farmer’s tan. Perfect. Next to nights, these were the hardest moments. Literally. Roy was painfully aware he was standing with only the towel wrapped around his waist to hide his hard-on. Thank goodness they didn’t happen often. Usually there were five other guys around to mitigate the situation. It wasn’t easy to be turned on when Chet Kelly was in the building.

But Chet wasn’t around today. Today, the engine had been called out a few minutes before he and Johnny got back to the station, dirty, wet and cold from an exhausting water rescue. It was just the three of them, Johnny, him and his dick.

Razor back in hand, Roy took a deep breath and tried to ignore Johnny dropping his own towel. He tried not to stare at his partner’s naked ass in the mirror. Gulping and shaving, as it turned out, were not conducive to each other. He nicked himself good, a droplet of blood forming almost instantly. It welled up and trickled into the white fluff of shave foam. He cursed his clumsiness and retreated to the toilet to get some tissue. He lingered in there, still too close to his mostly naked partner, but at least out of sight. When he wandered back in, Johnny was at the mirrors looking for stubble of his own to shave and finding none.

Of course, Johnny was leaning over Roy’s sink, pants on but not shirt. In order for Roy to resume his shave, he was going to have to approach the root cause of his predicament. He gulped again, and surreptitiously fiddled with the towel. Thankfully, Johnny moved aside on his own, but he didn’t go far. Johnny smelled like Safeguard soap and something else. Deodorant, maybe. He didn’t care, it was nice. Roy pressed the square of tissue more firmly onto the cut, which was still bleeding. He hissed, though it didn’t hurt. Better to focus on a minor injury than a major erection.

“I can help you with that,” Johnny said, quiet. Serious as the day they’d met, the way he rarely was anymore except for on a run.

“It’s just a nick. I didn’t hit the jugular or anything,” Roy said with a laugh. He shaved the rest of his face quickly, carefully, and rinsed the remnant foam off. “I’ll survive.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Something in the way Johnny was speaking set off alarm bells. Roy straightened and looked at his partner. What blood wasn’t pooling in his groin headed for his ears, where it whooshed and impeded his hearing. Johnny’s look was intense and serious, too serious for a shaving cut. When Johnny flicked his attention downward, Roy’s palms started to feel clammy.

“It’d just be a guy helping another guy out. Locker room stuff,” Johnny said, making a reasonable case.

“Johnny, I…” Roy was discomfited and turned on at the same time. He wanted nothing more than for Johnny to take him, right there on the spot. “Oh, God, this is embarrassing.”

“It’s not a big deal. Happens to all of us.” Johnny shrugged. “It’s really not a problem. Let me give you a hand.”

Logic said to run, run, run.

Roy, feeling all of thirteen again, said, “Okay.”

Johnny didn’t hesitate. This wasn’t about foreplay or some scene from a romance novel or a porno. No schmaltzy music, no soft lens filter. The towel was gone in half a second, the cool air making Roy ache even harder. The moment Johnny’s warm hand touched him, he knew he wasn’t going to last and it was going to be the most humiliating experience of his life. He wanted for it to go on for more than a few quick strokes, and not only to save face. He just plain wanted.

“It’s all right,” Johnny said.

It was more than all right. The hands Roy had been infatuated with since minute one obviously knew what they were doing. _Johnny_ knew what he was doing. Roy blinked in surprise at what that might mean, but then Johnny was stroking him swiftly, strong but gentle, fast but slow and Roy’s legs felt like they might give out on him any second. The sensations rushing through him were as powerful as anything he’d ever felt, any sex he’d had in his life. It was like Johnny understood exactly what he liked. Roy’s balls began to tighten. He squeezed his eyes shut and his arms flew out, one hand landing on the sink, the other on Johnny’s shoulder. He held on tight.

“Unh,” Roy groaned.

On the verge of an orgasm whiteout, everything … changed. Johnny stopped his hand strokes, instead grabbed Roy’s dick firmly at the base within a circle of his thumb and forefinger. Roy’s eyes flew open, his breath came in rapid gusts. He stared at Johnny, who was again studying his face.

“Whu?” Roy swallowed repeatedly. This was the cruelest pleasurepain. He gasped and tried to focus. Couldn’t. “Johnny?”

“Do you trust me?” Johnny asked. His head tilted a little to the side, the barest trace of his lopsided smile appeared.

Oh, God.

“With my life, you know it.” He sounded about a second away from death. Little death. “Johnny, please.”

Johnny winked at him. Winked. Then he got to his knees, and Roy’s sex-mad brain figured it out. A millisecond of hot breath on his dick was the only notice he got before he was engulfed from tip to base. His whole body spasmed, but with Johnny’s fingers still holding him tight, he didn’t come. He thought Johnny jerking him off was amazing; the heat and wet of Johnny’s mouth was four hundred times better. Johnny pulled back, with suction, and swirled his tongue around the tip of his cock.

Roy’s hands fumbled again, both landing on Johnny’s head this time. He clenched and unclenched, fists full of hair. In reaction, Johnny sucked a little harder, took Roy in a little deeper and released the viselike grip he had on the base of Roy’s penis. Roy came, semen fairly bursting from him and Johnny swallowed, the bare, extra movement of his throat making starbursts appear and the roar of the ocean sound in Roy’s ears. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t stand on his own two feet.

When he came back to himself enough to do all of those things, Roy found himself leaning heavily, on the sink and on Johnny. A slight veil of gray seemed to cover his vision, but he saw Johnny’s expression was unreadable as he wrapped the towel around Roy’s waist.

“Juh, Johnny,” he said.

“Just kiss me,” Johnny said with another shrug and small smile.

Roy knew why he’d been thinking about Mr. Thompson. He didn’t want something to be wrong with him. Maybe there wasn’t, because nothing about what had just happened felt wrong. Roy took a deep breath, stood straight and took a half-step to Johnny.

And kissed him, as requested.

At first, Johnny stiffened and pulled away. Startled but too intent to care, Roy didn’t let Johnny duck. He liked kissing Johnny. A lot. Johnny’s lips were slightly chapped, rough, not what he was used to. Roy wanted more than a simple kiss. He opened his mouth, darted his tongue against Johnny’s lips. A thrill went through him when Johnny made a guttural noise in the back of his throat and opened his mouth, and then they were kissing wildly. Desperately. Roy could taste himself and yet not, intermingled with Johnny’s own taste. He liked both. He thought he might be able to kiss Johnny forever, feel Johnny’s bare skin against his own, have his tongue in Johnny’s mouth. He wrapped an arm around Johnny’s back and pulled him closer still.

Through thin uniform pants, Roy felt Johnny’s cock poke, hard and in need. Roy broke the kiss, stared at Johnny’s slightly swollen lips and flaring nostrils. He bit his own lower lip, knew what he wanted to do. He pressed a palm against Johnny’s crotch, rubbed gently. Johnny … jumped back, eyes widening. Roy saw something there, the same thing he had long felt for Johnny. His heart leapt to his throat. This wasn’t locker room stuff to either of them. He knew it as sure as he knew anything.

“No,” Johnny said, voice tight. His expression was pained, horrified. “I didn’t mean ... I shouldn’t have done this. Roy, you’re married. You’re _married_. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be that person.”

“John –”

Johnny grabbed his shirt and bolted from the room like it were on fire before any more could be said. As if on cue instead of coincidence, Roy heard the bay door open and the rumble of the engine returning. He felt numb, and more confused than ever. He dressed shakily. Johnny’s words replayed in his head. Yes, he was a married man and he loved Joanne. He thought he might love Johnny too, and he was pretty sure it was mutual. He didn’t know what any of it meant. He slid his socks on, brain turning over and over as he tried to calm himself down from burgeoning panic. It all eventually caught up as his neurons fired like they should again, and he realized something big.

Johnny hadn’t said “just kiss me”. That was what Roy had wanted to hear. What Johnny had actually said was “less messy”. Nothing to clean up, no evidence to cover if it was swallowed. Jesus.

Roy had screwed up and there was no going back, nowhere to go with the weight of this all hanging on him for the rest of the shift, for the rest of his life. Now Johnny knew about him, and that meant Roy was probably going to have to leave Station 51. He didn’t think Johnny would inform Cap, but he also wouldn’t want to be near him anymore. He took a shaky breath, shot a glance to the door as he heard Chet call out something. Roy could stand there working himself into a panic, or he could buck up. He didn’t see as he had much of a choice.

He buttoned his uniform shirt and tried not to think of how good it felt to have Johnny’s hand and mouth on him, or how bad it felt to see Johnny’s face moments before he ran away. He knew which of those feelings he wanted to last, and it was the one that couldn’t. Not ever again. Roy sat heavily, slumping his shoulders and staring into his open locker. He brushed his fingertips over his mouth. That kiss. Johnny had kissed him back. Johnny had looked at him with raw emotion. Something like hope fluttered in his gut. Maybe it would be okay. He needed to find a way to talk to his partner about it, figure how to get through this without one of them transferring.

One thing was certain – the station house was not the place for that kind of conversation. It turned out, there wasn’t an opportunity anyway. When Johnny wasn’t deliberately always talking with Marco, Mike or even Chet, they had multiple runs that kept them hopping until after midnight. And after midnight, all any of them were interested in was collapsing into bed for a few hours of sleep. Roy was so exhausted he didn’t even sneak a peek at Johnny in his skivvies like he usually did. Of course, if he wanted to be realistic about working with Johnny, Roy had to knock off the ogling. It was on that semi-unhappy note he drifted to sleep.

Morning came sooner than he would have thought possible, and while they had no runs in the short time between morning bell and the end of their shift, Johnny avoided Roy the same way he had the night before. None of the other guys seemed to notice the way he and Johnny didn’t directly speak to each other; if they did, they kept it to themselves. It wasn’t uncommon for partners to have hot and cold spells. The guys had no way of knowing his and Johnny’s hot spell had been very hot and their cold spot might change the face of Station 51’s A-shift forever.

As eight o’clock rolled around, Roy headed for the locker room. He’d snag Johnny and they’d hash it out over breakfast or something. The plan was a good one. Unfortunately, John was nowhere to be seen when he got to the room, his locker already cleared. This expediency was a new trait of Johnny’s, and one that Roy totally understood but was annoyed by anyway. He muttered a curse under his breath and shut Johnny’s locker.

“Gage took off like a shot,” Chet said casually. “Something going on with you two?”

Something, yes, and apparently Roy’d been wrong about no one noticing something was up.

“Nope. Nothing you need to worry about, Kelly.” Roy shucked his uniform, pulled on his jeans, and pushed open the door. “See you in a few days.”

“Okay, well. See ya.”

The door swung closed while Chet was still talking. Roy couldn’t be bothered to stick around for the full diatribe. If allowed, Chet would talk for hours, and Roy didn’t have time for that. He and Johnny weren’t going to be able to work together if Johnny couldn’t stand to be in the same building with him, let alone the same room. Roy chewed on his lip, uncertain what his next step should be. He nodded at Mike as they passed each other, kept moving to avoid conversation. He’d learned that trick from Johnny.

Ultimately, his decision was made at least partially on a subconscious level. As he pulled out of the station parking lot, the direction Roy turned was not toward home but toward Johnny’s apartment. What was the saying? If the mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammad, then Mohammad must go to the mountain. It felt a little bit like an ambush even as he approached Johnny’s place; he didn’t care. They had to talk. Every nerve in his body was prickling and sharp with the uncertainty of the future – his, Johnny’s, maybe theirs together, as a team or otherwise.

Roy spotted Johnny’s truck and knew he was home. He knew this was the right thing to do, yet he felt scared spitless, quite literally. His mouth was dry, cottony and now that he was there he didn’t know if he could bring himself to exit his vehicle. There were too many unknowns. As a firefighter, unknowns were part of the deal. He was used to it, in some regards, but he never _liked_ that aspect of his job. Sometimes, the only way out was through, so he steeled himself and moved into the building, up the stairs and down the hall until he stood in front of Johnny’s apartment door. He knocked twice. It opened after only a few moments, just a few inches. Johnny’s face was unreadable, neither angry nor excited. For some reason, it ratcheted up Roy’s nervousness.

“We should talk,” Roy said, and, damnit, his voice cracked.

“Yup,” Johnny said.

“Can I come in? I don’t, ah, think we should do this in the corridor.”

Johnny eased the door back and stood off to the side, granted Roy access. He remained silent, which was out of character. Even after a long shift, Johnny always found something to talk about. It was unsettling, even if Roy knew why his partner was quiet. He rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans. He hadn’t thought this through a hundred percent, left his script somewhere back at the station. Probably the locker room. It had been sucked out of him. Except, no, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He was working without a script, because he’d never given credence to his daydreams or thought they might in any way happen. A guy didn’t plan speeches about things that were never going to see the light of day.

“Need something to drink?” Johnny asked.

“Yes, please.” Roy took the distraction as he took a seat on the sofa. “Water would be great.”

“Be right back.”

A smart man would have taken the opportunity to compose himself, but while Johnny went the short distance to the kitchen all Roy did was sit there and think about his partner on his knees, giving the best blowjob if not in the world, then at least in the LA County area. He had no clue how he’d thought talking was going to be easy. A glass floated in front of his face, and attached to it, a hand. Johnny’s hands, again. Jesus, if there wasn’t something wrong with him, something was wrong with him.

“Look, let’s get right to it. I’m not sure what impression I gave you. What we did in the locker room, it was just a one off,” Johnny said, without warning. He perched kitty corner from Roy on that damnable sleeper chair, hunched with his elbows on his knees. “It’s no big deal. It didn’t mean anything. It was like I said – a guy helping a guy. And you don’t have to worry. I’m the last person who’d say anything.”

It wasn’t unusual for Johnny to go from zero-to-sixty in ten seconds, but that wasn’t what Roy wanted or expected to hear when his partner finally started talking. He realized it was more than not expecting to hear those words when anger swelled, first in his gut and then it felt like the walls of his chest were compressing. His heart hurt. Not in actuality, of course, but it did feel like it was pounding into the constricted wall of his ribs.

“Good, that’s good,” he said, and didn’t recognize his own voice or understand why those were the words that came out. He’d wanted to shout.

Yelling wasn’t his style, he guessed. Besides which, it only took him a couple of blinks to realize what was going on. Johnny was giving him an out, and if Roy hadn’t already proven himself a bonehead multiple times in the past few years, the last twenty-four hours of which had been spectacularly so, then he might have taken it.

“I mean, we can work together fine, right?” Johnny continued.

“We’ll just pretend it never happened.” Roy set his glass on the coffee table. “Ignore it.”

“Exactly.” Johnny clapped his hands together and rubbed them a few brisk times. He focused on the glass Roy’d put down. “That way, everything can stay the same.”

Even though he hadn’t had one, this wasn’t going to plan. Oh, Roy was very glad to know Johnny was okay with him, but he felt cheated. Disappointed, he realized. He really was the world’s biggest fool if he’d thought everything would be fine if Johnny had wanted more than a no-strings fumble and suck in the locker room too. He swallowed. He was about to cross an even bigger line here, say something he’d never admitted to anyone before. He heard his high school math teacher telling him it was okay to be who he was. He thought he owed Johnny the truth.

“Johnny, before we leave it at that, I need you to understand something,” Roy said. He took a deep breath and stared at his partner. This could be the line he shouldn’t have even drawn, let alone cross now. “It’s not just a physical thing for me.”

Johnny flinched, jaw clenched for a second. His face schooled carefully blank so fast, Roy wasn’t sure the reaction had happened, or what it meant if it had. What Johnny didn’t do was punch him in the nose, always a good sign when you’re making stupid declarations of _feelings_ , so he plowed ahead.

“I’ve known since I was thirteen that I, uh, you know.” Roy waved his hands. Eloquence was off the table, then. “That guys were attractive to me, sometimes. Not always. But with you, it went from having those kinds of thoughts to something more almost as soon as I’d met you, worked with you. I didn’t mean for it, but I can’t help it now. I have fe…”

“Roy, please,” Johnny said, voice choked, tight. “Please, you have to stop saying these things.”

Roy slouched, the words a blow he should have been prepared for. He should never have brought it up. He should never have let Johnny put his hands and mouth on him, because now it really was too late. He’d been as close to sure as he could have been about Johnny reciprocating, on a physical level if not more. He wanted more. He always would, and now he knew he couldn’t have it. It was going to be too much torment for him to take. Fantasies were one thing. Reality made it so much worse.

“Okay,” Roy said, wrecked and unable to mask it. “I’ll … I’ll go to Cap next shift and tell him I need to transfer out of 51’s.”

That got a reaction out of Johnny, who stood with a throaty growl. Anger, maybe. Probably. Roy couldn’t blame him. He’d misread so many things, and he didn’t know how it had gotten so bad, so fast. He wasn’t accustomed to being so far off base. He blinked at Johnny, who paced, footfalls frenetic but careful between the coffee table and sofa.

“I don’t want you to _transfer_ ,” Johnny said. He snapped his body toward Roy, ran a hand through his hair, which left a few wild tufts standing at random angles. His eyes were sharp, distressed. “I just don’t want you to keep talking about this. We can put it behind us.”

“Johnny, didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard you, I heard you. And it’s okay, really.”

“It’s okay that I think I might lo…”

“Don’t, don’t. Please, Roy.” Johnny stared at him, something like desperation in his eyes. “Don’t finish that thought. I shouldn’t have touched you, Roy, I get that. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you felt, or I wouldn’t have, I swear. Just because I don’t feel the same way doesn’t mean we can’t be partners anymore, so please do not leave because of me.”

Hope was a funny thing. A funny, stupid, amnesiac thing, because what Roy saw in Johnny’s face was exactly how he himself was feeling. It was the same thing he’d seen yesterday in the locker room. Johnny’s words now did not match his eyes. Roy wasn’t so delusional he couldn’t still read his partner like a book. Johnny was a frustrating, plot-twisty book, but Roy knew the story well. He’d memorized it the first time he’d read it, two years ago.

“Johnny, if you don’t have feelings the way I do, then how could it be because of you?” Roy said, softly. He took a step closer to his partner. “The other thing I wanted to talk about is that I’m not sure you don’t. Feel the same way, I mean.”

Johnny slammed the virtual book cover shut, then. He’d been almost frantic a second ago, but in a blink he went still as the ocean on a windless day. He met Roy’s eyes for a moment, then fixed his attention on the left lapel of Roy’s shirt.

"I _don’t_ , Roy,” John said dully. He brushed past Roy to get to the apartment door. He rested a hand on the knob. “I think maybe you should go. We need to step back. We can talk about the state of our partnership when you’re less…”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be less,” Roy whispered.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I want you to stick with me as a partner, but it’s not going to happen if you can’t let this go. And you have to let it go, Roy.” Johnny blew out a harsh breath. “Don’t make this a big deal, when I’m telling you it’s not.”

Johnny was resolute, which meant only one thing to Roy. The conversation was over. Roy’s head spun. He didn’t really know what he’d expected, but this outcome wasn’t it. If anything, he’d screwed up their partnership further by pushing. It was like he couldn’t stop himself when it came to Johnny, so ultimately this was all down to him. His legs felt achy and wrong as he moved to the door. As he neared his partner, he felt the tenseness radiating off Johnny. Like everything leading up to this point, Roy wasn’t sure why he did what he did next.

“Okay,” he said. “You don’t think of me as anything but your friend. It was physical reaction only. So, it would never happen again.”

“Right.” Johnny looked relieved.

“Okay,” Roy said again. “Just one thing, though.”

Roy took hold of Johnny’s wrist, pulled his hand away from the doorknob, at the same moment his lips hit Johnny’s. _One minute,_ Roy thought, _if I kiss him for sixty seconds and he doesn’t kiss me back, then I’ll know …_ It was stupid. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense; reaction didn’t necessarily mean anything even with a tacit dare to not react at all. He knew it, but he didn’t stop. He brought both his hands up to the sides of Johnny’s face and kissed Johnny slow and sweet, soft, with barely open lips. Johnny didn’t flinch, for long enough Roy really, really thought he wasn’t going to.

Then, Johnny gave a frustrated groan the same way he had yesterday afternoon, and started kissing Roy back. It wasn’t a frantic, sex-fueled kiss, not a physical need being purged like before. Johnny opened his mouth, let Roy in. Johnny’s tongue was smooth against his, his hands and arms pulling their bodies flush to each other. It felt _right_ and _good_ in ways Roy had never allowed himself to think about, kissing Johnny. He guessed what it call came down to was love.

After another minute, maybe a smidgen more, Roy broke the kiss. He ran his fingertips through the slight wave of hair behind Johnny’s ears, pulled back far enough that they could look each other in the eye. Johnny’s lips were red, slightly slick, and his cheeks dark with color.

“Liar,” Roy said with a smile.

Johnny looked at him, horrified and sad instead of joyous, before leaning to rest his forehead on Roy’s left shoulder. He hugged Roy tight, arms like a vise around his back.

Roy cupped one of his hands at the base of Johnny’s skull, held him close. Johnny’s breath was warm against his neck, as Johnny turned to lean into him further.

“I wish you had let it go. I wish I was stronger,” Johnny said. “Now it’s going to be so much more difficult.”

“What is?”

Johnny extricated himself from Roy’s hands, immediately folded his arms across his chest. He stood like that, silent for long enough Roy started to become uncomfortable again. Finding out Johnny hadn’t just been lending a hand was good news to him. He didn’t understand why Johnny finding out _he_ liked the guy in a way deeper than friendship should have made Johnny into that effusive, expressive person he was, part of why Roy liked him so much.

“I said it already,” Johnny said. He reached around Roy, for the door handle. He grasped it, but did not open the door. “Just because we both have dicks doesn’t mean it’s not cheating. I’m sorry. I do love you, you know, the way you love me. The way you love Joanne. The way she loves you, too.”

Roy felt sick to his stomach at the mention of Joanne. Oh shit.

“It’s not,” Roy said, but didn’t continue; he didn’t know what he was going to say.

“The only way this could have ever been anything is if we’d met years and years ago, before, when we were stupid teenagers.” Johnny shrugged, gave him a lopsided smile. “Before Joanne. Before the kids. And even then, maybe not. You know how the world is.”

Roy gasped like Johnny had punched him in the lungs. The magnitude of what Johnny was saying shouldn’t have been the ice-cold bucket of water over his head it was.

“Johnny, I...”

“Go home, Roy.” Johnny opened the door, finally. “Go home to your family.”

When Roy didn’t move, Johnny gave him a small push and made him stumble the few steps out into the hall. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. He … Joanne. What he’d almost done hit him hard, and yet, deep down he wanted to make it work with Johnny. He wanted both things. He _was_ both things. He’d only just come to terms with that, embraced it as best he could. A touch on his elbow had him face his partner.

“It’s gonna be okay, all right?” Johnny straightened his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere if you’re not.”

God, that right there was one of the reasons why he’d fallen for Johnny in the first place. Johnny always tried to see the positive in everything. Roy nodded dumbly, not as convinced as Johnny was trying to make them both be. They always had the bond of partners, the brotherhood many firefighters shared. It would have to be enough, but as Roy walked toward the stairs he couldn’t stop thinking of turning around and kissing Johnny some more, kissing him into submission, until he saw things Roy’s way.

And what kind of immoral jerk did that make him? He loved Joanne. He didn’t want to disrespect that love and the life they had built together. Roy made his way to his car, where he climbed in and slouched forward until his forehead rested against the steering wheel. He didn’t know if it was going to be all right, but he knew Johnny was correct about one thing – Roy had a family to think about, and that had to come first. Always, always, even if it broke half of his heart. He started the car and drove home.

The smell of eggs, bacon and fried potatoes greeted him when he stepped through the door, one of the many unspoken ways Joanne reassured him how much she loved him. His stomach grumbled and his heart gave that same pitter-pat it always did when he saw his wife in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug. He’d felt the same way at thirteen. It was good. It was right. Someday, maybe, Roy would have to tell her that he was attracted to men. They were never anything but honest with each other. But not today. After what happened with Johnny, he wasn’t ready for another disaster. Another heartbreak.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Joanne said. She smiled at him warmly. “You’re late. Have a last minute call?”

“Something like that.” Roy thought of Johnny’s lips, his crooked smile. The soft, easy way they’d kissed less than thirty minutes ago. He wasn’t hungry all of a sudden. “Actually, I went over to Johnny’s for a few minutes. Had to talk to him about something.”

“Oh, you should have invited him for breakfast.”

“He had plans.”

Roy shrugged and sat down as Joanne slid the cup of steaming coffee toward his plate and kissed his temple. He played the part, dug into the food as if his appetite was as it should be on any given morning. As he chewed slowly, the sound of Jenny chatting with her dolls in the other room and Joanne clattering at the kitchen sink, Roy contemplated theories of time travel and alternate universes, wondered if somewhere and some time he had everything that he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> This took me forever to write, the better part of a year. This is primarily because long fic in other fandoms reared their heads. And then when I was able to rescue Roy and John from the back burner, the happy story I wanted this to be laughed in my face and said "thanks for playing, sucka".
> 
> Please also remember this show took place in the seventies, and Roy would have been thirteen in the late fifties/early sixties. Hardly the same world we now live in.


End file.
